


Desk Set

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-10-30
Updated: 1996-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. AU involving a desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Set

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the printed zine "Organized Frisky Bureau 2."

From the outside, it looked like just another early 20th century New York office building-- grey stone with a few flourishes over the windows. Inside was a narrow, marble entryway. On the wall hung one of those glass-fronted black placards with white letters giving a directory listing of the offices. Vinnie glanced at it and spotted: "Terranova, V. - Suite 305."

"How much is this costing us?" he asked again, shaking his head. He'd never understood why they needed an office. They could run things just as efficiently from his house.

Roger gave an exasperated little laugh. "Stop worrying about it. I told you, it's all taken care of."

"Yeah, but--"

He was silenced by a quick, warm kiss.

"Come up and see the office," Roger murmured, keeping his lips close enough so that Vinnie could feel his breath. "I know you'll love it."

"And if I don't?" Vinnie asked, placated but not completely ready to be swayed by a kiss.

Roger rested a hand on Vinnie's ass and started steering him towards the gold-doored elevator. "Just see it first."

\-----

"It's a little dusty," Vinnie said dubiously, looking around the outer office.

Roger rolled his eyes. "Vinnie. This is a piece of American history. A testament to the triumph of opulent design over economic depression. This is an art deco masterpiece. And all you can say is, it's a little dusty?"

Roger rested his hands on his hips and tsked. Vinnie walked over to one of the filing cabinets and blew a puff of air over the top. A cloud of black dust rose and settled. Vinnie smiled smugly. Roger shook his head.

"Philistine," he muttered. "Just look around. Can't you feel the presence of history? Think Raymond Chandler. Think Sam Spade... Philip Marlowe... Think Humphrey Bogart..."

"Think cleaning lady, Rog. Cleaning lady."

Roger sighed in disgust. "Come see the inner office before you make up your mind," he said, stalking past.

\-----

The inner office was more promising, showing some of what Roger called 'classic Depression-era chic.' A rounded-top window dominated the rear wall, a faded maroon carpet covered the floor. What from the other side had looked like a fancy wall design in gold Vinnie now saw was a two-way mirror, allowing them to see the outer office.

Roger noticed him admiring it and said, "It's bullet-proof, too."

Vinnie smiled and tapped the glass. "You expecting many of our clients to come gunning for us?"

Roger shrugged and said drily, "Hey, you never know."

The real prize of the room, however, was the desk -- a monstrous piece of furniture made of rich mahogany sitting stolidly in the center of the office. Vinnie leaned against the side, running his hands over the smooth wood.

He looked over at Roger, who was peering into filing cabinets at random. Vinnie smiled to himself, loving Roger's unexpected playfulness, feeling Roger's enthusiasm for their admittedly harebrained scheme to start a detective agency.

He watched as Roger seemed to find something interesting in one of the file drawers. Admired Roger's lean form, the way his tight jeans accentuated his curves, the way his usually neatly-combed blond curls became unruly and spilled over his forehead and down the back of his neck... Vinnie felt a sudden, gentle rush of warmth and desire and got up to lock the door.

Roger was pulling something out of the file drawer.

"Whatcha got there?" Vinnie asked, coming close.

Roger turned around, beaming. "Champagne." He held up the sleek black bottle. "See, I knew you'd like it here. I prepared to celebrate."

Vinnie circled his arms around Roger's waist, nibbling his neck. "Uh huh."

Roger shifted, settling comfortably in his embrace, free hand tangling in Vinnie's hair. He pressed closer, guiding Vinnie to the desk. Vinnie felt the hard wood against his ass and slid back over the top, unbuttoning his shirt. Roger laughed softly, standing still just long enough to pop the cork on the champagne bottle.

Vinnie's hands roamed over Roger's body, stripping him of his clothes with ill-concealed eagerness. Roger swallowed a swig of champagne and set the bottle aside, hands going straight to Vinnie's jeans, which he peeled off with familiar expertise. Vinnie slid back further, opening his legs as Roger blanketed him, devouring his lips in a hungry kiss.

Roger slid his hands under Vinnie's thighs and rubbed their cocks together. Vinnie moaned into the kiss, digging his fingers into Roger's shoulders. Heat coursed through him, centering in his loins. His cock stiffened in arousal, vibrating Roger's with its deep throb.

Roger lifted up from the kiss. "Mmmm," he purred in Vinnie's ear. Vinnie looked up at him, smiling at their lust, the power of it only strengthened by the love and affection. Roger smiled back and ran his hands over Vinnie's chest, teasing his nipples. Vinnie writhed, laughing softly, giddy from desire.

Roger balanced against him and reached over the side of the desk, opening a drawer. He fumbled around a bit, finally producing a plastic tube. Vinnie laughed again.

"You had this all planned, didn't you?"

Roger nipped his chin, grinning mischievously. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds it may incriminate me," he murmured. Vinnie started to respond, but his words turned into a breathless gasp as Roger's fingers smoothed lubricant inside him, working slowly deeper, relaxing him.

Vinnie arched back, gripping Roger's shoulders as Roger knelt between his legs. He felt the head of Roger's cock press against him and he welcomed it inside. Roger sank into him, smooth and hard, stilling as his cock filled Vinnie's ass. Vinnie panted softly, holding on with tight caresses, longing to feel Roger moving inside him.

Roger took a deep, shaky breath. He reached aside and lifted the champagne bottle, taking a large drink before setting it down. Vinnie slid his hands down Roger's back, over his hips, gently tugging on him. Roger smiled down at him and carefully leaned over to kiss him. Vinnie parted his lips in anticipation and felt a subtly carbonated gush of champagne, warmed by Roger's breath, pour into his mouth. Vinnie moaned as he swallowed, and felt Roger begin to move, drawing back and driving in deep.

Vinnie pressed up to meet him, their bodies seeming to melt together with each touch. He squeezed Roger's cock tightly as he rocked beneath him, savoring each thrust. He followed Roger's frenzied rhythm, matching it, his senses hovering near overload as he watched Roger moving above him, saw the pleasure and passion in Roger's eyes. Climax looming, he thrashed beneath him, his flesh stroking and kneading Roger's cock. He threw his head back, seeing the colors and shapes of the room around him blur... And for a split second saw a vision he recognized... Something or someone familiar...

His mind let go of the vision as his body thundered into ecstasy, shuddering and shaking, clenching around Roger's cock as it erupted inside him, flooding him with a thick, hot tide. Energy swept through them, bonding them together in delirious union.

Roger slowed, gasping for breath, covering him with gentle caresses as the delirium ebbed. Vinnie sighed as Roger pulled away to stretch out half beside him, kissing and nuzzling his neck. Vinnie wrapped an arm around him and drew him into a kiss.

"I love the office, Rog," he whispered.

Roger laughed quietly, returning the kiss.

\-----

Frank McPike stared balefully at the glass-fronted door while Dan "Uncle Mike" Burroughs stepped cautiously from the elevator.

_Lococco &amp; Terranova, Private Investigators_, the gold lettering on the door read. Frank shook his head.

"Lococco &amp; Terranova... Sounds more like a brand of pasta sauce," he muttered as Uncle Mike started to open the door. "Tell me again why we're here."

Uncle Mike gave him that 'now, Frank' look and said, "To be supportive. Help them settle in." He opened the door and went inside, adding drily, "And of course it was your idea."

Frank followed him inside, frowning. "My idea? No, it was not."

Uncle Mike sat down in the maroon leather waiting chair and folded his arms. "Sure it was. You told them they should stop messing around and do something more useful with their lives than 'sex, sports, and rock-n-roll' -- I believe those were your exact words."

Frank glared at him, then looked around the dusty office. "Yeah, well, _this_ is not what I had in mind." He walked up to the large, gold wall decoration, shaking his head again, staring blankly at it. "_This_ bears all the hallmarks of one of Roger's flakier ideas." He sighed, letting himself remember the good ol' days before Lococco had slithered back into his and Vinnie's lives.

"Aw Frank, you've got to admit, it might just work. Vinnie's OCB training... Roger's military and CIA background... They're both resourceful enough, it could be a decent business for them."

Frank peered closer at the gold decoration, noticing with passing curiosity it was set into the wall like a mirror, then turned around to give Uncle Mike a skeptical look.

"And if you're worried," Uncle Mike added, voice softening a little, "keep in mind most P.I.s investigate cheating husbands and deadbeat dads instead of mafioso and lunatic arms dealers."

Frank decided not to grace that with a reply -- especially since Uncle Mike was right, damn it. Instead, he wandered around the outer office once more, wondering how many centuries of dust were represented here and if they should start an archaeological dig for the their missing Hardy Boys... Or was it the Bobbsy Twins?

"Where are they anyway?" he asked. "I thought this was supposed to be the big opening splash." He tried the door to the inner office and found it locked.

Uncle Mike was sitting back, leafing through an outdated newsmagazine. He glanced up and smiled. "Sex, sports, or rock-n-roll?"

Frank gave a disgusted sigh and stalked out of the office. "Forget it. If they don't have the decency to show up at their own grand opening, then why should I?"

Uncle Mike followed him out, closing the door behind him. "Because you care?" he replied, sounding smug.

Frank pressed the elevator call button and rolled his eyes. "Just get inside, will ya?" he said as the elevator doors slid open. Uncle Mike obeyed, laughing quietly.

(the end)


End file.
